


Your sword and shield

by Ceciliedr



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst and Feels, Batbrothers (DCU), Batbrothers (DCU) Bonding, Brotherly Love, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Family, Mental Health Issues, Protective Jason Todd, Resurrected Jason Todd, Tim Drake is Robin, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28899630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceciliedr/pseuds/Ceciliedr
Summary: The last thing Tim expects when he crawls through the window is to have a gun pointed at his face. Maybe he should, considering he’s currently doing the entering part of B&E. But it’s Dick’s safehouse. The third one he’s checked tonight. Tim’s hand freezes around the birdarang when his eyes move to his assailant’s face.Black hair with a white streak standing out in stark contrast. Blue eyes with hints of swirling green, dark circles underneath them.It’s... impossible… it’s… Jason.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 24
Kudos: 456
Collections: Red Hood vs Red Robin





	Your sword and shield

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up; this fic touches on what happened to Dick with Mirage, Blockbuster, and Tarantula. Nothing is explicitly stated, but it's more than a little implied.
> 
> A reminder that the author hasn't read any of the comics and trying to find specific panels for research is a pain in the backside.

The last thing Tim expects when he crawls through the window is to have a gun pointed at his face. Maybe he should, considering he’s currently doing the entering part of B&E. But it’s Dick’s safehouse. The third one he’s checked tonight. Tim’s hand freezes around the birdarang when his eyes move to his assailant’s face.

Black hair with a white streak standing out in stark contrast. Blue eyes with hints of swirling green, dark circles underneath them.

It’s... impossible… it’s… Jason.

The look of pure fury melts somewhat off Jason’s face, but the gun is steady, still pointed at Tim’s head.

“Replacement.”

Tim’s not sure the noises leaving his mouth qualify as words. Not even sure this is real. His hand slips away from the weapon as he stumbles forward, reaching out for the other-

“The hell.” Jason slaps his hand away before it makes contact. Tim stares at it. Feels a slight sting. This can’t be real, can it?

“What are you doing here Replacement? What do you want?”

“I-” Tim can’t stop staring. Eyes roaming over Jason, so different yet the same. Taller and broader. The scar near his eyebrow is gone, there’s a new one at the side of his neck. Socked feet, black sweatpants and a hoodie that has to be Dick’s. Only he would buy something proclaiming the wearer to be a Pun Queen.

Wait, where is Dick?

“Where is he?” It’s only them in the kitchen. Dick has to be okay, he  _ has _ to be. Tim was in San Fransisco when he heard the news. That Dick’s entire building went up in smoke.

Tim is already so late, he can’t be  _ too _ late. He can’t lose- “Please tell me Dick’s alive.”

“He’s alive.” Jason puts the gun on the counter. Tim slumps back against the windowsill. Exhausted. Feeling like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Is he okay?”

“Who the fuck would be after what he’s been through?” Jason snaps and Tim flinches. Dread like a physical weight in his chest. Jason is right and Tim doesn’t know the half of it.

“How bad is it?” Tim can hardly force his voice above a whisper. Clinging to the sill as the edge digs into his back.

“Physically he will be fine, the bruises fully gone in a few weeks. Mentally.” Jason crosses his arms. “It’s not good. Anything else goldie gotta tell you himself.”

Tim nods and Jason turns towards the stove. Tim only now noticing the other is in the middle of cooking.

He’s feeling weird. Similar to three days with no sleep, where everything is sorta floating and kinda unreal.

“You want Robin back?” It’s not important right now, it shouldn’t be. Tim was always a placeholder, temporary. Only there because Bruce needed  _ someone _ to be. But…

“The fuck?” Jason is staring at him. Confused instead of angry this time, but Tim can’t meet his eyes. Not when the lenses of his mask are the only thing that keeps the tears hidden.

“Robin. It’s yours, it was always yours and-” Tim cuts off before he starts sobbing. He  _ is _ happy. He’s ecstatic that Jason is somehow alive, so why does it feel like he’s choking?

“Keep the circus collars kid.” 

Something is wrong with Jason’s voice. But Tim can’t tear his eyes off his boots long enough to check what it is. Instead, he’s following the sealant lines of the grey tiles beneath them.

“Whe-” Tim wets his lips “where is Dick?”

“Asleep. Fucking finally.” Jason stirs the wok. Tim’s stomach decides to rumble loudly at the amazing smell. Reminding him it’s been at least twelve hours since he last ate something.

“Change out of the costume without waking the big bird and I might feed you.” Jason’s focus is on the task in front of him. He’s resolutely not looking Tim’s way, even as Tim sneaks deeper into the sparsely furnished house.

Dick’s curled into a tight ball on the bed, duvet pulled half over him, arms wrapped around one of the pillows. Tim’s heart aches at the traces of tears and snot still visible on it. What happened? How bad did it get? Why did Dick never ask anyone for help?

Tim sneaks a hoodie and a pair of fluffy socks out of the dresser. Resisting the urge to crawl into the bed with his older brother and just hold him until Dick feels even slightly better. Dick’s done that for Tim more times than he cares to count.

But Jason was clear.

Tim keeps the Robin pants, since Dick’s would not even remotely fit. No amount of belts fixing it. He’s already drowning in a blue hoodie that goes to his thighs. Stashing his bundled up costume in the living room, before making his way back to the kitchen.

Pinching himself would be stupid and prove nothing. Tim still want’s to do it at the sight of Jason cooking rice. Brain stuck in a loop of ecstatic and dread, because it’s too good to be true.

Tim slumps down at the kitchen table, too many questions bouncing around his skull. Sadly he doesn’t get talkative of Jason, rather; piss me off and I will  _ shot  _ you. So Tim bites his tongue. Literally, a few times as his mind overworks itself trying to deduce the answers on his own.

“Only a freaking bat can be silent that loudly.” Jason scuffs, opening the fridge and hurling a water bottle at Tim’s head. Catching it is pure ingrained instinct.

“Sorry?” Tim takes a big gulp, having not paid attention to how parched he’s become. Chipped lips and a steadily building headache.

“I’m not answering any bloody questions.”

“I know.” Tim figured as much.

Jason sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Why you gotta be so difficult to hate?”

Tim… doesn’t know what to say to that. Seems hard enough for people just to like him and the criminals of Gotham are not exactly fans of the teenager ruining their day.

“Sorry?” He tries again when the silence makes him want to squirm. Fingers drumming on the side of the bottle.

“Where did Bruce even fucking find you?” And Jason’s voice is back to more snarls than words.

“I oh, I found him.” Tim amits and the other just stare at him until more words tumble past his lips. “I knew who Batman was under the mask and when-” Tim cuts himself off, plastic sequel under his tightening grip. 

“He was going to get himself killed, someone needed to have his back before it was too late. I  _ tried _ to make Dick go back.” Tim rubs his neck with a grimace. “That didn’t work out. Neither of them ever wanted me out there, but in the end, they both needed someone to save their lives and… I stole one of you’re old uniforms.”

Jason has turned back to the stove, all his attention on the food at first glance. He’s listening to every single word. Tim can see it in the tensing of Jason’s shoulders. The twitch of his fingers.

“I died in those collars.”

Tim winces “I know.”

“There should have never been another Robin after that.”

“Gotham  _ needs _ Robin.” Tim is certain of that, has been since he followed the older boy around with a camera at night.

“If the city can’t survive without child soldiers fighting on the streets, then maybe it deserves to burn.” Jason glances towards him, eyes greener than before. Tightly controlled fury in his tone as his knuckles whiten around the spatula.

“I chose this.” Tim focuses on the remaining water. How light reflects in it when he tilts the bottle this and that way.

“There shouldn’t be a choice to begin with.” Jason slumps against the counter “this rotten world should not rely on children throwing themselves in the way of shit to keep it together. The fate of everything in the hands of teenagers.” He sounds so defeated. Hating everything about the situation, yet powerless to really change it.

Truth is, the world needs every single hero it can get. There have already been more close calls than anybody is comfortable talking about. Without the so-called ‘sidekicks’ they wouldn’t have made it this far.

“We still choose this life for ourselves.” Tim reminds him. It’s the only truth he can think of that makes it any better.

Jason just grunts in response. Busying himself with setting the table for three. Waving of Tim’s move to help.

“You’re on the Teen Titans right?” Jason asks as he returns to the stove.

“Yeah, I was at the tower when I got the news of Dick’s apartment.”

“You interact much with goldies original team?”

Tim shakes his head “not really.”

“There is a reason for that.” Rage simmers beneath each word. Jason’s clearly holding a grudge. “Had it been one of them through the window, I might have just pulled the trigger.”

“What happened?” Tim asks, what else can he do. He can tell it was important, that it changed things. But that still doesn’t tell him what it was.

Jason hesitates, for so long Tim’s doubting he will ever get an answer. Jason is stirring the wok with an expression like he would rather murder it. The words are not what Tim expected.

“Ever heard someone, even the ‘hero’s’ call Dick a slut behind his back? Or even to his face?”

Tim wince and slowly nods. Gossip magazines and the people at high society parties always seem to have an opinion on Dick’s dating life, and a new insult for it. Dick’s smile always turns stained when he hears it, despite claiming it doesn’t bother him.

It only gets worse when it’s one of their allies. Hits Dick even harder, when it’s Nightwing people gossip about.

“Next time you deck them. I don’t care who says it, why or how. They need to shut the hell up.” Jason’s eyes are almost entirely green, almost glowing and Tim might have his first big clue to the mystery of his return.

“I- can’t get away with punching people for running their mouths.” No matter how much he hates hearing it. Hates seeing his brother hurt by the words.

“Then get creative. Just show people shutting up is in their own best interest.” Jason takes several deep breaths. “If one more of Dick’s self-proclaimed friends ever call him a slut again I  _ will  _ shot them. It’s down to where.”

Tim feels like he’s trying to solve two different puzzles smashed together with half the pieces missing. 

“You’re not going to fill in the blanks, are you?” Tim sighs.

“I promised.” Jason glares at him “and I don’t trust you. If you betray Dick right now he will  _ never _ fully recover.”

“I would never do that!” Tim shouts and is half out of his chair when a saltshaker smashes into his mouth.

“Keep your voice down moron.” Jason looms over him as he presses Tim back into the chair. “I was fucking there. Back when his team turned their backs on him and hurt Dick in ways they still don’t seem to get. The idiot still blames himself. You’re his brother. Unless you get this right it’s fucking  _ over _ , you  _ understand _ that?”

Tim doesn’t, not even remotely. Mouth tasting faintly of blood, salt on the floor. Jason’s eyes bleed desperation, the kind of powerlessness that makes people scream. Tim hates the suspicion eating away at him, how it only grows. The heavy dread in his stomach.

Tim knows Dick blames himself for Jason’s death, despite being in space at the time. That he takes everything on his shoulders. Tim was there for some of the aftermath. Found Dick sobbing in the library more than once. Heard him agonize over everything he could have done differently, like each possibility was another way Dick failed. Tim tried his best to help.

Nobody in the Titans died at that time.

“What the hell  _ happened? _ ” Tim bits out, meaning both then and now. Jason’s hands are warm on his shoulders. The older boys face a map of pain.

“Blockbuster found out Dickies civilian identity and used it to target people he cares about.”

The feeling of dread so heavy it’s crushing registers before the words fully do the same. Tim stares up at Jason, lost for words. That’s… that might be Dick’s worst nightmare brought to life.

“He drove Dick over the edge. Goldie doesn’t want to talk about it, but I think he might have had a full-on mental breakdown. I would have.”

Tim’s mouth is dry and he… Dick! Tears fill Tim’s eyes. Breathing past the agony in his chest takes a conscious effort. Jason scans his face before nodding.

“Blockbuster is dead. She beat me to it. But I was there in time to put a bullet through her head  _ before _ she followed through on her sick ideas. It was still too fucking  _ late _ .”

Tim wishes he didn’t understand what Jason could mean. Wishes with all his heart Dick didn’t have to live through that. That Jason just admitted to murdering someone seems like an afterthought. Sure to be important later, but not his current priority.

“Dick is my brother, he’s…” Tim can’t find the right words. Can’t get out what he means. “I will always love him.”

Dick was the one who showed Tim what family truly means. The first one to ever want him for him, love without conditions. If Dick went on a murder spree tomorrow Tim would stop him, but not stop loving him.

Jason regards him for what feels like an eternity.

“You can stay.” He turns back towards the stove. Starts setting out food on the table. Tim rubs his eyes and nose in the sleeve falling down over his hand.

“Go wake up the bird and tell him there’s obligatory food.” A small smile on Jason’s lips as he meets Tim’s eyes. “We will take care of him.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I tried to deal with some of Dick's traumas and kinda failed... again. I always seem to end up writing more around it? Well, it still turned into a fic, if not really the one I wanted.


End file.
